


That Was When He Ruled the World

by BeneaththeHalo



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur from Merlin's POV, BBC Merlin Fest, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, With a bit of a surprise at the end!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:23:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1520876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeneaththeHalo/pseuds/BeneaththeHalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sitting by Avalon, hundreds upon hundreds of years since Arthur's death, Merlin reflects on his king and just what kind of person Arthur Pendragon really was. Character study on Arthur from Merlin's point of view.<br/>Posted as part of the BBC Merlin Fest on Tumblr, for Prompt 1- favourite character.<br/>Go Team Arthur!</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Was When He Ruled the World

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Viva La Vida by Coldplay

He had been so arrogant, at first. When he was younger, before he’d come of age and been named crown prince. Everyone knew it, even if they turned a blind eye to it or, god forbid, gone along and _laughed_ at what he did. Could you blame them, though? He was their prince, their golden child, the future king of Camelot. He was charismatic, and he had that smile that could get people to do whatever he wanted. And he _had_ bullied his servants, yes. But that was only because none of them had ever had the guts to stand up to him.

Looking back on in later, Merlin realised that the whole reason that Arthur hadn’t strung Merlin up by his ankles for days on end, and had just let him go after their second encounter, was that Arthur _admired_ Merlin for what he did. He admired him for the being the first person to ever stand up to him, to call Arthur out on his bad behaviour, to treat him like an _actual human being_ instead of the untouchable figure they all kept up high on a pedestal. He’d craved it, Merlin realised. He’d craved being treated like a normal person, and feeling like he was just like everyone else. How lonely it must be, to be a Pendragon and the sole heir to the throne of Camelot.

Merlin would never have told Arthur any of this, considering Arthur already had a greatly inflated ego (or so Merlin kept telling him), but the Once and Future King _was_ good looking. Even Merlin hadn’t failed to notice the way Arthur’s hair shone in the light, looking like golden strands of sunlight (although if he’d ever accidentally said that to anyone, Merlin would have simply said that those were Gwen’s words, not his). Arthur’s smile was something that evoked feelings of great joy in Merlin- they were _friends_ , after all, and Merlin wanted to see him happy.  There was just something about Arthur that his people simply loved- Merlin amongst them. Although what this something was, nobody could say. He was just simply _Arthur_.

Despite Arthur’s obvious charisma, he was still horribly insecure. He still yearned for his father’s approval, and Merlin had seen how hurt he was when he didn’t get it. Arthur had stories of things he’d done to make his father proud that he regretted, raiding the druid camp prominent among those, and Merlin knew how much these memories made him _hurt_. Arthur had also chosen a particularly difficult and dangerous quest to prove his worth as crown prince of Camelot to make his father proud, and to prove to his people that he was worthy to lead them one day. But Arthur had nothing to prove. Not to his people, not do his father who loved him, and definitely not to Merlin. (Merlin knew he tried, though- that day Arthur had fought Queen Annis’s champion, yet had spared his life, was still fresh in his mind. He still remembered the look on Arthur’s face before he thrust his sword into the ground.) Merlin knew Arthur’s insecurities were hard for him to fight away, but that didn’t mean that they were warranted. Arthur’s people loved him. _Merlin_ loved him. His queen in Guinevere loved him. And in the end, Merlin knew that Arthur had learned to believe in himself.

Despite knowing that Arthur believed in himself, Merlin also knew that Arthur had a tendency to listen to and take to heart everything other people said about him, which was both to his benefit and to his detriment. After Morgana had taken over Camelot with Agravaine at her side, and Merlin and Arthur had fled they’d met Tristan and Isolde. And every single negative word Tristan had said, every insult upon his ability to rule, Arthur had listened to. He’d listened to him, and he’d believed them, and Merlin had watched him lost faith in himself. It had taken a great feat for Merlin to convince Arthur that he really, truly, did deserve to be king again.

With a level of bitterness that Merlin hated, he remembered the influence that Agravaine had had on Arthur. He’d convinced Arthur to kill a man who should never have die and nearly brought a war upon Camelot in the process, he nearly convinced Arthur not to marry Gwen because she wasn’t ‘appropriate’, and he’d convinced Arthur that he didn’t need anybody else to help him rule. He convinced Arthur to be something other than himself, and Merlin had _hated_ him for it. Listening to him, letting his words worm their way into his mind and influence him, had nearly cost Arthur his kingdom and his life. Listening to someone else had nearly been Arthur’s downfall.

Arthur’s own father was another person that Arthur should not have always listened to. The most obvious reason, at least in Merlin’s mind, was Arthur’s hatred and fear of magic stemming from Uther’s vendetta. If he hadn’t grown up around that, if he hadn’t been influenced by and _listened_ to every negative word his father had ever uttered on the subject, maybe he would’ve been able to convince his father to change his ways and his laws, or change the laws when he became king and stop Morgana from ever having to turn against him, and Merlin would never have had to hide from him. But they were only what ifs, and that wasn’t the only thing Arthur should never have listened to his father about. Ruling his kingdom with an iron fist, striking fear into the hearts of his subjects, was another obvious one. Uther had always thought his son was too soft, too kind, too lenient on his subjects and on his enemies. Merlin knew he wasn’t, though. He knew that Arthur’s heart could be his greatest strength (and sometimes, he thought, Uther could see that too). Making his most loyal friends into knights was, in Merlin’s opinion, one of the best decisions Arthur had ever made. They had both known, though, that Uther was a traditionalist, and would never have accepted that commoners should become knights. Luckily, this was one area in which the two Pendragons had never agreed.

It was the same when Uther had tried to marry Arthur off to a princess from another land to strength alliances. Arthur, however, had managed to see sense in this one- both he and Princess Elena had agreed that one should marry for love, not because they felt duty bound to do so. He’d understood that the right thing to do was to marry the woman he loved, not to go along with the marriage his father had thought to be the most strategic. And even when Uther had found out about Arthur and Gwen, and had tried to do whatever he could to keep the pair apart, Arthur hadn’t listened. The depths of his feelings were so strong, Arthur would have given up his kingdom if it meant he could be with her, and Merlin knew this wasn’t something Arthur would say unless he really, _truly_ meant it. He knew that one day, he would marry the woman he loved, no matter what his father said. And, looking back on their wedding with a smile, Merlin knew that in this too Arthur had made the right decision. He always did, in the end. Even if it meant going against what others thought was right.

At the same time, though, Arthur did know that there were times when listening to another could be a good thing. He’d listened to his knights and to Gwen when they’d told him that they believed in him, that they’d be by his side no matter what, and that they knew him to be the great king that Camelot deserved. Arthur had allowed that to give him the strength and courage and determination to fight, to believe that his men could defeat whatever evil they came across, and to believe in _himself_. These were men Arthur trusted, and thought of as more than brothers. If _they_ believed in him, which they always did, Arthur believed in himself. For reasons that Arthur couldn’t understand (or so he claimed, even though everybody knew better) he also listened to _Merlin_. Merlin had become Arthur’s rock and his crutch, someone to keep him grounded and remind him what really mattered, and someone to help him back up when he faltered and lost faith. Merlin had been Arthur’s most trusted adviser, even though he’d never said it. They both just _knew_. It was Merlin he turned to in his most desperate moments and in his darkest hours. If Merlin had had enough faith in Arthur that he had believed the king could pull a sword out of solid rock (even if Arthur _did_ have secret help), then Arthur himself believed. He believed in himself. He believed in the king he wanted to be, and the king he would become.

A king who not only listened to his friends but listened to his people, who’d yearned to know what his subjects really thought of him and what they thought it meant to be a good king, because he wanted to be a better person. He wanted to be a king that the people loved and were proud to call their sovereign. He wanted to be a king that the people could connect with, could talk to, that respected them and showed them kindness no matter who they were. But more importantly, he wanted to be a king who served his people just as much as they served him.

_Without the people, there is no Camelot. We're as much their servant as they are ours._ That was what Arthur had said, once. And in his own case, he was right.

His sense of duty and his fierce need to protect and fight for his kingdom was both something that Merlin admired about Arthur, and something that broke his heart. Even when his own life was at stake, even when all hope seemed lost and it appeared that Arthur would die, he fought anyway. Merlin still had a very vivid recollection of fleeing Camelot after Morgana had taken over with Agravaine and Helios at her side, and Arthur looking back upon his burning kingdom. Even after Merlin had magically taken away his willpower, Arthur wanted to protect his kingdom. That desperate need was a part of him- stronger, perhaps, than anything else. His sense of duty had driven him to fight Valiant in that tournament final, even though he was sure he would die. He’d challenged the black knight, a being who seemed to be immortal, because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing any more of his knights to the being. And when he’d brought Camelot to the brink of war by killing Caerleon, Arthur had sent himself in as champion- not because he was arrogant, not because he thought he was the only one who could win, but because he blamed himself for the situation and knew this was the only way to stop anybody from dying for him. He’d wanted to protect his kingdom. He’d wanted to spare his men from dying unnecessarily. He’d wanted to stop them from dying because of _him_. He’d caused the problem, and he’d had to be the one to fix it.

Arthur had never been one to hang back on the battlefield, either. First when he was crown prince, and even when he’d become king. He could’ve hung back, could’ve stayed away from the worst of the fighting (Merlin knew of many a king who had done exactly that). That wasn’t Arthur, though. He had this need to prove himself, to prove that he was a fierce warrior and strong enough to be king. Merlin could still remember, with fond bemusement, the time Arthur had pretended to be someone else in order to fight in a tournament without any chance of favouritism. He’d felt this was the only way to prove, to himself and to others, that he was worthy of leading the army, and that his wins were not just because people feared injuring the crown prince. (Of course, Arthur had never revealed his true identity, but that was another story.) Merlin knew that Arthur had done all of this because he knew it was his duty to protect his people, no matter what the cost. Arthur’s people and his kingdom had meant everything to him, and he would’ve done anything and everything for them. Hell, he _had_ done everything for them. He’d made the ultimate sacrifice. To save his people from Morgana and her armies, Arthur had given his own life.

A single tear rolled down Merlin’s cheek.

Hugging his knees to his chest, and trying to fight off the grief that he knew was coming forth, Merlin tried to remember the times when Arthur had looked like a complete and utter fool. He was _Arthur_ , after all, so there were plenty of them. Like when he had donkey ears and was _braying_ , for example. Merlin didn’t think he’d ever get over that, and he’d often brought it up afterwards to rile the man up. There was the time, too, when Arthur had ‘accidentally’ fallen face first into mud on the training field after mysteriously dropping his sword, and the time when he’d somehow thought it was a good idea to be tied to a spinning wheel with an apple in his mouth and have _knives_ thrown at him. Merlin hadn’t been able to stop laughing at that- Arthur had looked like a complete idiot. The king was good-natured, though, and though he could have Merlin thrown in the stocks for laughing, he’d known it was all in good fun. Although sometimes his reactions in situations like that could surprise Merlin.

Something else that had surprised Merlin was how much Arthur had cared for _him_. Merlin was just his servant, a farm boy, someone far below Arthur’s own station. But he’d meant something to Arthur, which Merlin knew now was because he was the only one who had treated Arthur like he was _human_. Arthur would’ve done anything for Merlin. He’d ridden out on a dangerous mission to retrieve the only thing that would save Merlin’s life after he’d drunk poison for Arthur. He’d followed Merlin back to Ealdor when Merlin’s home village was under threat. He’d protected Merlin in fights, scoured the forest for him after they’d become separated by a rock fall when fighting bandits, and he’d always made sure Merlin was by his side. It seemed that Arthur needed Merlin just as much as Merlin needed him.

What Merlin found most remarkable about Arthur was that he’d treated Merlin like a friend, not like a servant. While he’d bossed Merlin around, it wasn’t in the way Merlin knew other noblemen treated their servants. He’d done it in an almost teasing away, as if he had sought a reaction from Merlin. Which he got, most of the time, because he knew Merlin had given as good as he got. Their banter was one of the only times Merlin saw Arthur let go of his responsibilities and the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders, and he was just _Arthur_. Just like everybody else. A feeling that Arthur had always yearned for, and one that he had always found in Merlin.

Merlin sighed, stretching out his aching, ancient limbs. “I miss you, my king,” he whispered. He looked out over Avalon, as he had done nearly every day since Arthur’s death. But this time, a glint of something caught his eye. Metal reflecting sunlight. An ancient sword rising out of the lake.

“Arthur.”


End file.
